


Baby Babble

by a_bad_poem



Series: Years and Years [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bad_poem/pseuds/a_bad_poem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is babysitting for John (kind of). When the child interrupts him with tears and screaming, Sherlock has to take care of it. The baby surprises Sherlock with it's first word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Babble

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in twenty minutes in math class, so hopefully it's not absolute crap. Had this idea bumping around in my head for a little while. Enjoy!

_Shoe size..._

_Weight..._

_Height..._

_Dark hair..._

_..._

_Crying?_

Sherlock blinked, forcibly being pulled out of his mind palace. His eyes settled upon the mobile baby crib that John had insisted on bringing into Sherlock's apartment. They visited often enough that John had brought the damned thing in. Sherlock wondered how many times he'd bumped into it. 

Sherlock scowled. He swore this baby got more obnoxious ever since Mary died. "Shut up!" He snapped, determined to solve this case in record time.

The baby kept crying. 

"John!!" Sherlock called, then gazed around the room. "John? Oh, don't bloody tell me you've gone to work again." He didn't understand the concept of it. John's job didn't seem to make him particularly happy. 

The baby kept crying. 

"What?" Sherlock demanded, almost as if he expected an answer. He pushed himself up from his chair. "What do you want? Food? Drink?"

The baby kept crying.

Sherlock stomped into the kitchen, grabbing John's bag of extra baby items he always kept in Sherlock's home. Normally he wouldn't have bothered with the child, but he needed quiet to concentrate and he couldn't bring himself to dump the infant in Mrs. Hudson's hands.

The baby kept crying. 

"Shut up, shut up!" Sherlock demanded, rummaging through the pack. He pulled out a bottle, filled with lukewarm orange juice. Whatever. It would do.

Sherlock peered into the crib, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the mess of snot and tears on the baby's face. "Here. Open your mouth," he muttered stiffly, holding the bottle up to the baby's lips. To his relief, the infant took it in his mouth and began sucking in the juice happily, still snivelling.

It took longer than Sherlock would've wanted, but eventually the child had enough and let go of the nub. "Nuisance," he muttered as he went to put the bottle away. 

"D...d-da," the baby gurgled, which made Sherlock turn back around. He didn't think the baby could speak. Then again, it was probably just baby babble. 

Their eyes met, and the baby managed to say, "D...dada. Daddy."


End file.
